


two rabbits running

by peachis



Category: The Craft (1996)
Genre: Blood, Dark Magic, F/F, Forced Arousal, Forced Orgasm, Knifeplay, Magic Bondage, Mentions of Suicide, Mindfuck, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Object Insertion, Ritual Sex, Sex Magic, Vaginal Fisting, Verbal Humiliation, condescending praise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachis/pseuds/peachis
Summary: She’d had it all planned out. A note, a glamour, a plane-crash-that-wasn’t. Sarah was so easy to manipulate, all her fears pinned like scarlet letters to her chest. But there was something niggling in the back of her thoughts, a prickling in her fingers, a tremor in her spine that let Nancy know Manon was calling her and he had other things in mind.





	two rabbits running

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoundandColor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/gifts).



Magic had a smell, like ozone drifting in on ocean waves, the heady perfume of jasmine and oleander blossoming, petrichor pavements steaming after the rain, copper and salt and rich, dark soil. It had a sound, the strike of a match in a dark room, the hot howl of the Santa Ana wind, thunder rumbling and waves crashing and a thousand whispering voices, sibilant and sweet.

When she cast, Nancy felt it in every atom of her being.

It felt like power.

ღ

Sarah’s house was beautiful. It had huge windows, hardwood floors, bright flowers in the garden, views all across the valley. The first time she’d had them all over Sarah had led the way blithely through the sprawling mansion and up to her bedroom, with its private bath that was the size of the entire trailer Nancy called home, without batting an eye. It made Nancy want to break things. She nudged pictures askew as she passed, moved a vase to the edge of a table so it would fall and smash it someone brushed it, slipped into Jenny and Mr. Bailey’s bedroom when no one was looking and stole thirty dollars and a Dior lipstick from the dresser just because she could.

Nancy was used to Bonnie and Rochelle’s home lives and while it grated on her - Bonnie’s hovering, overprotective mother, her perfect bedroom with its own phone line and tv, Rochelle’s glittering turquoise swimming pool in their manicured yard, a fridge that was always full and parents that were always absent - Sarah was different. Bonnie and Rochelle were like her, in a way. Hungry, angry, bitter, seeking something better.

Sarah was something else. A wounded dove, trailing feathers. A slender-limbed faun with a swoop of princess lashes, abandoned by a mother that was never coming back. She was vulnerability personified from the stiff set of her shoulders to the brittle defensiveness of her tone and Nancy hated her. Then she loved her. Now she wanted her dead.

The house was quiet and still around Nancy as she waited, even the cicadas outside were silent. A storm was rolling in.

She’d had it all planned out. A note, a glamour, a plane-crash-that-wasn’t. Sarah was so easy to manipulate, all her fears pinned like scarlet letters to her chest. Watching her scream and cry and flee from snakes and maggots and little beasties that weren’t really there would’ve been fun, Bonnie and Rochelle agreed. But there was something niggling in the back of her thoughts, a prickling in her fingers, a tremor in her spine that let Nancy know Manon was calling her and he had other things in mind.

So she waited, alone, in the empty house, for Sarah to come home.

She waited in shadow as Sarah clattered from room to room, calling for her parents. She waited while Sarah burst into her bedroom, flinging her bag aside and sinking down onto the edge of her bed, face buried in her hands. She waited until Sarah realised something wasn’t right, looking around for the first time to make sure she was alone.

Then she acted.

The circle was already cast. A flick of Nancy’s hand threw Sarah off the bed and onto her back, knocking the breath out of her. ‘Surprise!’ She stepped out into the light and Sarah scrabbled backwards on the floor, trying to escape.

‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ Sarah snapped, her expression haunted.

‘Hm,’ Nancy pretended to think, pulling an exaggerated moue of consideration. ‘Because this is much more entertaining?’

Sarah tried to stand and found she couldn’t, she was trapped where she’d fallen. ‘What have you done to me?’

Nancy dispelled the glamour and the circle flickered into existence, the stolen lipstick showing dark against the wood of Sarah’s bedroom floor.

‘Rochelle was a girl scout, you know,’ she told Sarah, pulling candles out of the air and setting them at each of the four points. ‘Always be prepared!’

‘Where are they?’ Sarah craned her neck around as if Rochelle and Bonnie might fly in through her window laughing.

‘They’re not coming. It’s just you and me girlfriend.’

The makeshift altar was simple but she knew it was enough. Manon didn’t care how pretty her tools were, that stuff was just for fun. Nancy turned back to look at Sarah and the candles flared to life as their eyes met. A little drama never hurt anyone.

‘What are you thinking, Nancy?’ Sarah asked and she’d almost have sounded calm if her voice wasn't still thick from crying to Lirio.

‘We’re going to do a little spell.’ Nancy clapped her hands. ‘Doesn’t that sound fun?’

‘What spell?’ Sarah pulled against the invisible constraints that held her down.

Nancy could see them, shimmering bonds that wrapped around her arms and waist. She stepped into the circle and the magic washed over her, settling into her bones with a purring hum.

‘You don’t want me to spoil the ending, do you?’

She crouched over Sarah, crowding her back against the floor. Sarah kicked out at her and Nancy caught her by the ankle and tutted.

‘That’s not very nice.’ She pulled off her shoe and threw it carelessly behind her, then took the other.

‘Let me go!’ Sarah threw herself against Nancy’s grip but Manon was in her and she was strong now. She pressed Sarah’s knees down against the floorboards, anchoring them there to the the magnetic pull of earth beneath.

Sarah’s breathing sped up when she realised she was trapped like that. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Well, at first I was going to kill you. You know what the Sisters say,’ Nancy wagged her finger and affected a pious voice. _‘Thou shalt not suffer a bitch to live.’_

‘It’s witch,’ Sarah muttered, never able to resist being contrary.

Nancy grinned. ‘My mistake.’

She plucked at the hem of Sarah's knee sock to watch her thigh muscle twitch then slowly pushed her legs wider until she was splayed out like an offering.

‘They hung them, you know. The Salem witches. Or crushed them to death with rocks.’ She kneeled on Sarah’s thighs, pressing down with her knees, with her mind, hard enough to leave bruises. ‘Not as satisfying as a good old fashioned burning.’

The magic flexed as something in Sarah quaked at her words. It was a pitiful attempt, Nancy rode it out easily.

‘Since I couldn't burn you alive, I thought I’d make you kill yourself.’ She ran a finger over Sarah’s scars, pulled at the collagen until her own wrists itched and ached in sympathy. Sarah thrashed beneath her, eyes wide and terrified. ‘A scar is just a wound waiting to be opened again.’

‘Nancy, don’t,’ Sarah’s voice cracked painfully as she pleaded. ‘Please, you can’t do this.’

‘Poor baby,’ she cooed. ‘Don’t you get it?’

Nancy was blessed by Manon. She walked on water. She controlled the weather. Twice she had held the lives of men in the palm of her hand and twice she had snuffed them out. If she chose to, on a whim she could reach down, deep into the earth, dig sharp nails into cracked fault-lines and tear the whole state apart.

‘I can do anything I want.’ She leaned in close enough that Sarah’s panting breaths warmed her face, close enough to leave a trace of dark lipstick against the soft lobe of her ear when she spoke. ‘And you can’t stop me.’

The athame came to her when she called, like a trusty hound. It sang in her hands, the hilt was warm as a living thing to the touch. It hungered to be used, to channel power, to taste blood. Nancy traced the cold metal along Sarah’s jaw to see her flinch. She trailed the sharp point down over her throat, her fluttering pulse, and Sarah moaned in fear.

‘Don’t squirm now.’

The fabric of Sarah’s shirt parted to the blade like butter. Beneath it she was wearing a lace bralet, white and virginal. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the soft fabric, and Nancy laughed. ‘If I'd known this was what got you going our slumber parties could’ve been a lot more fun.’ She stretched Sarah’s arms above her head and pinned them there, held in place by invisible chains.

Manon’s gift, the sharks on the beach, ancient predators of human nightmares. Their skin had been rough and wet, cold beneath her shaking hands, but she felt the last lingering hint of life in them, waiting just for Nancy, waiting to be taken into her.

Sarah was a gift. A gift for Nancy, a gift for Manon.

She’d tried to abandon the coven, their North Star, their steady point on the compass. She betrayed them.

Manon spoke to Nancy when she raged, ribbons of white clinging to her skin like hot wax dripped from above. She threw them off easily but the burn remained, searing into her like a violation.

_Restore the balance._

‘You tried to bind me Sarah, and now it’s come back on you. Threefold.’

Lace tore and Sarah keened high in her throat.

‘You really thought that little spell could keep my magic from me? I _am_ the magic. The power is inside me.’

Since the beach whenever Nancy looked in the mirror her eyes reflected writhing storms. Sarah’s were flat and empty as washed up sea glass, especially now, wet with tears.

‘You reek of fear. You always have, scared of the world, scared of yourself. It’s pathetic.’

Nancy slid her hands under Sarah’s skirt, rucking it up around her waist. ‘You never deserved his gifts. It was all there, at your fingertips,’ she skimmed the tips of her own over the crotch of Sarah’s little-girl white cotton underwear, ‘and you never did know what to do with it, did you?’

Sarah jerked away from the touch. ‘Nancy, stop it, stop, I don’t want-’

‘You don’t know what you want.’ The magic caught and held, keeping Sarah fixed in place while Nancy rubbed at her and it was easy as blinking to pour a little lust into her touch. ‘But I do. I can see inside you, Sarah.’

Nancy could hear her thoughts as if she was screaming them. She liked this, her body didn’t lie. The heat that spread through her belly, trickling down her spine, didn’t lie. Her mouth might but Nancy could find something to occupy it with, if it came to that.

‘You thought you wanted Chris? Thought he would fill you up with his clumsy, groping fingers, stick his useless cock in you and fix that hollowness inside? You have no idea how it feels to be full. When Manon fills you he touches your soul.’

‘No-’

‘You never wanted Chris. You just want to be loved. And Manon is love.’

‘You’re insane,’ Sarah sobbed.

‘Perfect love, perfect trust,’ Nancy trailed the point of the athame over her collarbone, pressed hard against the fragile skin until blood beaded and spilled over. ‘I’ve seen your heart and it is empty. I’ve seen your mind, your darkest secrets, your deepest fears. I know you want this.’

Nancy licked the athame clean and dipped her fingers in Sarah’s blood. She closed her eyes, visualising the sigils that Manon had showed her, and began to paint curling lines over Sarah’s breasts and belly.

Sarah’s lips were moving. ‘H-hail to the guardians of the watchtower-’ she tried and failed, the words dying in her throat.

Nancy drew a perfect bloody circle around one stiff nipple, teasing the sensitive skin with a cruelly gentle touch and dotting the tip playfully. ‘Almost done.’

‘Hail, hail to the-’

‘Shut up.’ Nancy slapped her hard enough that the palm of her hand stung with it, a smear of Sarah’s own blood livid against her pale cheek. Then because she liked how it felt, she did it again.

Like this, Sarah was a vision. Legs spread wide, arms pinned down, breasts bared and dripping scarlet.

‘Wanna play light as a feather?’ Nancy teased at the wet spot growing on her panties. ‘I’ve got two fingers here for you.’

‘Don’t touch me,’ Sarah hissed. ‘Don’t you dare.’

‘Oh, you know I can’t resist a dare.’ Nancy traced the skin of Sarah’s inner thigh, slid the blade beneath the edge of her underwear and felt her freeze like a rabbit in a trap. The sensory feedback was maddening, Nancy was holding the knife and she was pressing Sarah down and she was being pressed down and the metal was cold as ice against where she was so hot and throbbing and _wet-_

‘Please,’ Sarah gasped, eyes blown wide and pulse racing. ‘Please.’ She didn’t seem to know what she was asking for. When Nancy cut through her panties with a flick of her wrist, she flinched hard enough that the candles flickered.

Sarah was blonde and pink and soft and everything Nancy wasn’t. She rested the very tip of the athame against her clit and Sarah closed her eyes, tears glistening on those baby deer lashes.

‘I like it when you beg.’

Sarah stayed stubbornly quiet. Nancy sighed, setting the knife aside, and leaned down press her mouth in its place. The first taste of her was ambrosia, so thick with power that Manon himself shuddered in her chest.

‘I drink of my sister,’ Nancy giggled drunkenly. Sarah was so wet it gleamed in the candlelight. ‘I drink of my sister,’ she said again lapping messily at her cunt, ‘and take into myself all her power.’

Sarah moaned, fucking up against Nancy’s mouth. Her eyes were glazed and her lips parted around desperate, heaving breaths. Arousal and frustration and terror hummed beneath her skin and the sick edge of it was intoxicating, Nancy wanted to swallow it all. She pressed the flat of her tongue to Sarah’s clit, fingers digging bruises into her hips, and sucked.

Sarah cried out, head thrown back, her throat a long stretch of skin that Nancy wanted to smear lipstick and bite marks over. She was crying.

‘Give it up, Sarah.’ Nancy fucked two fingers into the soft heat of her, then three, curled and pressed until Sarah’s legs trembled. ‘Let go. Let it rush out of you and into me.’

‘No,’ her voice was wrecked, cracked little moans and mewling whines the only sounds that passed her swollen lips.

Nancy pulled back with a sigh and considered her in the candlelight, spreading the slick between her fingers.

‘Alright,’ she said. ‘So we’ll do this the hard way.’

The candle was dark blue, for absorption of energy. It was medium length and tapered, the base of it was as thick around as a soda can. Nancy had carved the right symbols into it with a pin and a drop of her own blood and now she anointed it with oil.

‘I read that sympathetic magic works best when the correspondence is strong,’ she said, rubbing the smooth edges of the carvings. ‘See, there’s you.’ She held it up for Sarah to see, tapping a fingernail against the crude depiction she’d scratched on the side.

‘The only thing better than correspondence is a part of the person you’re casting against.’ Nancy drizzled a last pour of oil over the tip and brought it to rest against Sarah’s clit, dragging the rough wick against overstimulated nerves.

Sarah was dazed, dizzy and overwhelmed, and she seemed to realise what was about to happen just before it did, the candle sliding down between her folds and pushing in.

‘Easy,’ Nancy soothed when she let out a broken scream at this new violation. ‘Just relax. It’s barely thicker than Chris Hooker’s cock, I’m sure you’ve had bigger things in here.’

She set a steady rhythm, fucking the length of it in and out, slick gleaming against the wax and sinking into the sigils. Sarah let out gasping whines every time Nancy nudged the candle in a little deeper, stretching her open bit by bit.

‘Good girl, there you go.’ Nancy could feel the phantom fullness inside herself and she rocked her hips against Sarah’s thigh absently. ‘You’re taking it like a proper little whore.’

She twisted the candle as she pushed in, another inch sinking deep, and Sarah was beyond words. When Nancy dipped into her thoughts they were fractured and chaotic, overwhelmed with pure sensation. Pleasure and pain and ache and hurt all jumbled together until she wanted it to keep going as much as she longed for it to stop.

‘What a slut,’ Nancy laughed, fucking her harder. ‘I never thought you were this kinky but look at you, you love it.’

Sarah shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her mouth worked uselessly and Nancy gave her a little push to help her find the words.

‘Please,’ she whimpered, ‘I need-‘

‘Do you need to come?’

‘Yes.’ Sarah was flushed all down her chest, nipples tight and peaked, stretched cunt dripping down to the floor beneath her.

Nancy slid the candle free with an obscene wet sound and set it carefully beside Sarah’s face so she could see. Shame and horror and need and disgust drifted up from her like perfume and Nancy lit the candle's soaked wick with a snap of her fingers.

‘You took it down to here,’ she said with a hint of pride, pointing at a spot an inch away from the base. ‘You’re so sloppy and open down there now.’

Sarah whined as Nancy slid four fingers into her stretched hole, rubbing her thumb against her clit. She fucked her lazily, feeling the thrum of the energy pooling in Sarah’s pelvis.

You’re close.’ She turned her hand, grinding against Sarah’s pubic bone, and forced her knuckles past her rim.

Sarah jolted like she’d been struck by lightning, clenching down and moaning when that only worsened the pressure. Nancy curled her thumb into her palm and with a rush and a push, her whole hand was inside Sarah.

It was like nothing she’d ever known, a more primal thrill than taking a life. She could feel Sarah pulsing around her, feel the ache as she was stretched wider than she thought she ever could be. Nancy curled her fingers into a fist and rocked it gently, wrist bone pressing against Sarah’s entrance, bony knuckles bumping against her g-spot.

Everything Sarah was, all her magic, all her pride, was screaming beneath a sea of pleasure. Nancy blunted the edges of the pain, numbed the fear and the hate until Sarah was panting at how good it felt to have her there, splitting her open.

‘Doesn’t it feel good?’ she crooned, fingers nudging up against Sarah’s cervix, the very heart of her. ‘Don’t you wanna just let go?’

_Restore the balance. North, South, East and West must never be parted._

Without Sarah the circle would have broken and failed, without her magic they'd have been back where they started. Nancy was strong enough, with Manon inside her, to hold all of Sarah's power. She brought her other hand to Sarah’s clit and stroked gentle circles in widdershins. Sarah’s magic pooled at Nancy’s touch, it crept into her fingers, wound around her forearms.

‘Come on, Sarah. It’s time to give it up. You'll be so much happier afterwards, without all that darkness, all that guilt, let me take it from you. Come for me.'

Nancy sent a pulse of magic through her hands and Sarah wept as she spilled over. Her back arched, her muscles seized, and a wave of magic rushed into Nancy like an avalanche, churning and electrifying. It was better than any orgasm she'd ever had, the aftershocks wracking through them both for several long moments. Nancy felt it, the power, the magic, brimming inside her as surely as Sarah was empty and hollow beneath her touch.

_Restore the balance and the world will be yours._

ღ

Magic had a taste. Ripe fruit and honey and the tang of salt.

Nancy licked the last of it from her lips, savouring the sweetness as she crossed the room. The window swung wide open for her, a fork of lightning lit up the whole valley stretched out at her feet. She stepped out onto the Juliet balcony and turned her face to the sky with a smile, the rain landing on her warm cheeks like a benediction. Manon stirred in her veins, she was weightless, power crackling beneath her skin.

Nancy flew.

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw The Craft in the sign up summary I immediately wished that I'd thought to offer or ask for it myself, so I was really excited to fill this request for you! It was also a wonderful excuse to re-watch one of my favourite films and relive my goth-teen crush on Fairuza Balk. I hope you enjoyed the fic!
> 
> Title: Season of the Witch - Donovan


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